Sacrifice

Another rustle sounded closer to her. Whatever it was, it was definitely moving toward her location.

Annja closed her eyes and saw the sword hovering just in case she needed it. But even as Annja felt the glow of its security, she knew she wouldn’t need it for this particular situation.

She had the distinct impression that whoever was moving through the undergrowth below her was friendly.

Or at the very least, an ally.

Annja shifted her position so she could see over the edge of the tree. Her body seemed to know the direction the person must have been taking. Annja leaned farther out of the edge of the tree, her fingers slowly walking toward the last outcropping of branches.

Suddenly she found herself leaning too far, felt her weight shift on the wet vines and her balance vanish as she toppled out of the tree.

Annja tried to pivot in midair, but knew she wasn’t high enough to pull off the move. She felt the rush of air—briefly—and then the dull hard thud of impact along her back.

The wind rushed out of her lungs and Annja lay there a moment, stunned.

She tried to sit up, but felt a piece of metal jammed under her chin. A harsh voice broke the night air.

“Don’t move.”

Annja froze. “I’m no threat to you,” she said calmly.

She looked up and saw a vague outline, like a giant blob of leaves and branches, hovering over her. The gun barrel that was aimed at her looked real enough, even in the darkness.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

Annja eased herself up, trying to breathe her way through the pain that shot up and down her spine. She didn’t think anything was broken, but she’d be feeling those bruises for a while. Luckily, she seemed to have landed in thick leaf litter.

“My name is Annja Creed. The Abu Sayyaf kidnapped me several days ago. I have no idea where I am.”

The gun barrel didn’t move. “Kidnapped?”

“That’s right.”

“I didn’t hear anything about a kidnapping.”

Annja frowned. “Great. So much for the cavalry coming to my rescue.”

The shape shifted. “Doesn’t seem like you need them that much right now anyway. You obviously escaped.”

“The camp, yeah. But I have no way of getting out of here,” she said.

The gun barrel lowered. “You look okay. Seems like you’ve been getting enough water.”

“Tube vines,” Annja said.

“Good choice. And your camo looks pretty good. You look like a cousin of Bigfoot.”

Annja smirked. “I won’t win any beauty contests this way, but it keeps the mosquitoes off of me. At least temporarily.”

“Who taught you how to survive in the jungle?”

Annja shrugged. “I’ve had some friends in the military over the years. I picked up bits and pieces of what they used to talk about.”

“Well, it’s kept you alive, that’s for sure.”

Annja looked at the mass before her. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You just passing through these parts?”

There was a low chuckle. One of the shape’s hands reached up and slid back part of the mess that covered him. Annja could just make out the heavily camouflaged face that emerged from under a thick suit of burlap, grease paint, grass and leaves.

“Gunnery Sergeant Vic Gutierrez, United States Marine Corps. At your service.”

Annja pointed at his outfit. “You sure know how to dress for a party, Sergeant.”

“This here would be my Ghillie suit, ma’am. And it does a wonder keeping the bad guys from finding me.”

Annja looked out into the jungle. “Were you the cause of all that gunfire I heard a short time back?”

“Guilty as charged. They seemed a bit upset that I shot one of their superiors.”

“Not a guy named Agamemnon, by any chance, was it?” Annja asked.

The soldier shook his head. “I wish. He’s my primary target on this op, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Well, when you do, please be sure to give him my regards, would you?”

“Sure thing. He a friend of yours?”

“Best buddy, actually. So much so he wants to cut my head off.”

The soldier shook his head. “Sick bastard. We’ve had him on the radar for some time now, but only just got the green light to come in and take him out.”

“So you’re with special operations?” Annja asked.

He nodded. “A couple of us got assigned to do some deep jungle penetrations. Solo ops. No spotters, no backup. Just a man and his rifle alone in the jungle. The belief was no one would ever expect us to go in alone. Hell, I don’t even have a radio with me. Just a couple of exfiltration times. I miss one, they come back two more times. I miss those, they presume me dead.”

Annja blinked. “That’s exactly the kind of assignment I’d expect most men to jump for.”

He smiled. “Well, I don’t exactly have the kind of workday that most men would pick for themselves. There ain’t a lot holding me to this life, if you get my drift. This thing seemed like the perfect chance to get alone with my thoughts while I did some valuable trash removal for the country.”

“Interesting euphemism.”

“Ma’am?”

“‘Trash removal.’ And please call me Annja. You keep saying ‘ma’am,’ and it makes me feel old.”